Reincarnation
by TwilighterRenthead
Summary: A girl runs across the graves of eight people with oddly familiar names, names she has never heard before. I had to take it down and repost it so I could fix something. Mark is not dead, had I originally planed.
1. Prolouge

REINCARNATION

I wandered aimlessly around the cemetery, looking at random names and dates, looking for one in particular. So far, nine I wasn't looking for had caught my eye. All in a row, they looked like a family, though every name was different.

First was April Ericcson, 1966-1988, "Always So Dear." That was it. A name, a date, and a quote. Nothing else about who April was, what her hobbies were, who her friends and family were, how she died.

Next was Angel Dumott Schunard, 1965-1989, "I'll Cover You." Thomas B. Collins, 1964-1992, "Life's No Fun Without Fun." Mimi Marquez-Davis, 1970-1994, "No Day But Today." Roger Davis, 1967-1995, "I Have Always Loved You."

My heart gave a small leap as I read the date on Roger Davis' headstone. He had died the day before I was born. Why this affected me so, I don't know.

Next was Benjamin Coffin III, 1966-1996, "You'll See."

I didn't like Benjamin Coffin's grave. My eyes flickered involuntarily back to Mimi Marquez-Davis' grave, a protective feeling washing through me.

After him was Maureen Johnson, 1966-1997, "Jump Over The Moon."

A slight feeling of annoyance came over me, a smirk forming on my face.

Joanne Jefferson, 1966-1997, "We're OK."

The last grave I encountered hit me he hardest. A single tear slid down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. I didn't like people to see me cry, even dead people. I stared at the stone.

Mark Cohen, 1966-2002, "How Did We Get Here?"

Mark's quote had a sort of... finality to it. Like how did these nine people end up in a row in a graveyard, all of them so young? Mimi had only been 24 when she died. What led to this...?

I turned, forgetting my previous quest, and ran out of the graveyard and to the florist shop a few blocks away. I picked up a trowel and nine flowers using my allowance money.

I returned and tenderly cleared the weeds off of each grave and placed its proper flower on each.

A daffodil for April, a sunflower for Angel, a Gerber daisy for Thomas, an orchid for Mimi, a tulip for Benjamin, an Iris for Maureen, a lily for Joanne, and a rose for Mark.

Why I chose those flowers, I don't know. Why these nine people, these nine strangers, most of whom had died before I was born, spoke to me, I don't know. Why I cried over the grave of one remains a mystery.

But one thing is for certain: I will not let these strangers be forgotten.

A/N: If it was too vague, just message me, I'll explain it. This is my first fic, so feedback is nice. ~TR


	2. Nightmares

_"We've got AIDS," she wrote, hands shaking. Shivering, she undressed and filled the tub, a small sliver thing tucked into her hand. Slowly, she lowered herself into it. She sucked in a breath and took the blade to one wrist. She gasped as it broke the skin, crimson seeping through the crevice. She quickly slit the other wrist and cried out._

"Oh God!" We shouted together.

I sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily.

"Damn it," I panted. That was the fifth time I had had that dream. The red headed girl had killed herself, leaving a note for her boyfriend. Red, as I called her. She was young, no more than 23, pretty, and full of life.

I had had other dreams, as well. I had been in Red's boyfriend's body. I never saw my face, only Red's body, the note, and the track marks on my arms, scarred and fresh.

There had been another man with me, a pale, skinny person with glasses, a scarf, and a camera, but I took no notice of him.

The howl of rage and grief that ripped through me was like nothing I had experienced before, conscious or otherwise.

I touched my forehead. It as cold and clammy, and my hair was plastered to my forehead. I lay back down, and immediately fell into a new dream...

I was Red's boyfriend, but Red had nothing to do with this. I was sitting in a turquoise hospital chair, with six other people with me. I stared at the man in the bed, hooked up to the monitors. He looked so sick. _She_, my mind corrected.

This, too, was amazingly clear. Every face was sharp, as though I had known them for years, rather than they were right out of my mind.

_No, not here_, my mind as Red's boyfriend thought. _I won't die here._

Just then, a beautiful Latina girl's face caught my eye. She looked at me sadly, and I stared back accusingly.

The scene shifted.

The phone rang and two men's voices said "Speeeeeeeeak."

A deep baritone voice spoke.

"Guys... i-it's Collins-"

The pale man picked up.

"Hey Collins."

A faint, broken buzzing signified that the man named Collins was answering him.

His pale face went even paler as he nodded.

"Ok. Collins, I-I'm so sorry," he said, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. "Ok. Bye."

He turned to me and spoke in a thick voice.

"Angel's gone."

I abruptly woke up again, tears streaming down my face. It was still dark, but, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't go back to sleep. Not after tonight's dreams.


	3. Dream Therapy

A/N: Sorry! School is stupid and I've had a ton of projects, and eighth grade is a big homework year. Great.

" I had that dream again last night. The one with the girl."

"Really? I thought that those had stopped."

I walked through the cafeteria with my friend, Jen, empty lunch bags in hand. The cafeteria food was infamous throughout all of New York's Lower East Side.

"No, I just stopped talking about them."

"Hm."

"Also, I found these eight graves yesterday afternoon when I was looking for Dad. They... they just... I don't know what it was but I completely forgot dad and bought them flowers."

"Flowers? Who were they?"

"I don't know. Their names were April, Angel, Thomas, Mimi, Roger, Benjamin, Maureen, and Joanne."

"Hm. Why do you think?"

"I don't know. They're just names to me. Except... then there was Roger Davis. He... I don't know, just... struck me, I think are the words I'm looking for. Like I've heard it before somewhere...."

"You imagination is getting away from you."

"Maybe...."

"I'm taking you to a dream therapist this afternoon."

"You can't pay for that, Jen!"

"No, it's fine. Madame Z doesn't charge first time customers."

"Wait, Jen, I'm not going to a dream therapist who calls herself "Madame Z." She sounds like some psychic kook."

"Bella, please."

"Fine."

"Thank you, Bella!"

"That doesn't mean I'm gonna believe anything she says," I called after her as she flitted away.

The rest of the day passed monotonously until the final bell.

"Great. Time to go see Madame Z," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

I met Jen out front and we walked to Madame Z's "office." It was really just a ramshackle house decorated eccentrically with scarves, candles and books about omens and the like.

"Miss Margaret, how good to see you. And you brought a friend."

A woman with a long dress and a serene, wispy voice came in

"Hey Madame Z."

"Margaret?" I asked doubtfully.

"I was an esteemed customer in a past life."

"Esteemed customer in a past life. " I nodded sarcastically.

"I came to talk to you. My friend, Bella, has been having weird dreams lately, so I wanted you to see what's going on."

'They've been disturbing you."

"Yes," I admitted.

"Come, come, lie down."

She led me over to a green and black silk fainting couch. I lay down, feeling like a mental patient.

"I'm going to put you into a trance, a false sleep which still has you dreaming. You are feeling sleepy..."

I dreamed of Red again. But I also dreamed of the Latina girl I had seen in the hospital. She was lying in my arms, dying, and I was singing to her. I was in the loft I had been in when I had woken up crying. I was with the people I had been with in the hospital. I was singing to her. My voice was strong, but rougher than it should have been with emotion. As I sang the last few notes, she died in my arms.


	4. Sleepovers and Replacement Flowers

A/N:Wow, I got this up fast considering everything I've got going on. School, Taekwondo, school, music lessons, school, band and choir concerts, school, career day, school. Oh, did I mention school? God, I've got too much stuff going on. Anyway, reviews please! Reviews make me happy, and me being happy makes me write more and better. That and chocolate. And caffeine, but that usually results in rabid plot bunny attacks and/or crackfics. Either way, they're unpostable and not good. By the way, my computer is being stupid and won't let me erase or add things to my stories. OK, so Mark isn't dead. No flowers for Mark, seeing as he's not dead. And madAgirly37, I meant to give Roger a flower. I really did! It was supposed to be an alstroemeria, which is Bella's favorite flower (for a reason). I've decided that Roger's favorite flower was an alstroemeria (It's mine, too).

"Mimi!" I gasped, sitting bolt upright. Madame Z looked troubled. Jen looked excited. I'm sure I looked like I'd seen a ghost. Paler than normal; cold, clammy, sweaty hands and forehead; ashy face.

Madame Z's eyes went wide.

"Go, Margaret, go. I must speak with your friend alone."

Jen obediently left the bungalow. The screen door slammed shut.

Madame Z grabbed her red hair by the bangs and pulled it off. Down fell a mess of tangled, chocolate colored curls.

"You. You're a fraud!"

"No, I'm not, Bella. I could see everything you could. And I recognized every face in that dream. I think I know what is happening to you."

"Why should I believe you?"

"My name is Kelley. I... I know the blonde man in your dreams."

"What?"

"The blonde man, with the camera."

"You _can_ see."

She nodded.

I stood and walked to the door.

"Come back if there's anything new."

I paused at the doorframe.

"I will."

She smiled.

I walked home.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing what any teenager would: homework.

Mom got home from work and kissed me on the top of my head at the kitchen table.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey, honey. Guess what I did for you for while I'm on a business trip?"

"What?" I feigned excitement. Mom never really got it right surprise wise.

"I organized with Alison down the hall for you to spend two days with her and Tiffany!"

"Oh!" I laughed nervously, trying once again to be excited. "Tiffany and Alison. Great!"

As far as Mom knew, Tiffany Coffin and I were the best of friends. But the thing was, she wasn't. The friendship was all her and Alison's.

"They want you on Tuesday."

"OK."

God, I couldn't stand Tiffany and her stuck up ways and name and clothes. She was a total Momma's girl, and if her dad, Benny was alive, she'd be a daddy's girl too.

I gasped in realization.

"Mom, I left something at Jen's house. I need to go get it."

"Be back before six."

It was 4:47.

I bolted out the door, leaving the lobby in my dust. The cemetery was a mile and a half away. It would only take me fifteen minutes to get there. I was great at running long distance.

I ran to the row of headstones that I thought were the same as before. I panted out the names

"John… Rose… Nathaniel… Emeline… Vanessa… Albert…" I grimaced. Who named their kid Albert? There she was! April! I passed each name quickly, but with respect and tenderness. April, Angel, Thomas, Mimi, Roger. There he was. Benjamin Coffin III. Date of death: January 15th, 1996. It fit. This was Tiffany's father.

The flowers were looking rather shabby, so I ran to the florist's shop across the street. I picked up the same flowers as last time: daffodil, sunflower, Gerber daisy, orchid, alstroemeria, tulip, iris, lily. I cleared the beginnings of weeds, and placed the flowers lovingly on each.

What was with me? I never met these people (except for Benny, but I don't remember him) yet I loved them. Mimi and Collins especially. There was just something about Roger.

I began to hum.

A voice behind me said "What are you humming?"

I stopped suddenly and whirled around.

"I don't know." I honestly didn't.

He stared at my green eyes.

"Why are you here?"

A/N: Uh-oh, cliffy! In exchange for the next chapter, I demand 5 GOOD reviews. Ok, demand is a little controlling. I would like 5 GOOD reviews. GOOD ONES! Please and thank you.


	5. Meetings

A/N: Hey Guys. Wow, I was not expecting to get three reviews within the first hour and a half of posting chapter four. Give me a chance to finish the chapter first! Just kidding. You make me feel so loved. By the way, some questions about Madame Z will be answered…. Well, here's chapter five!

"I just… saw them there and thought they could use a little love."

"Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome. I have to go."

"Wait."

I turned to face him.

"What's your name?"

"Bella. Isabella Whitmore. And you?"

"Mark Cohen. Could you sing for me what you were singing before? I mean, it was really pretty."

"Uh, I can try. I'm not sure if I remember it. Melodies come and go for me all the time."

Yet I found it. And with words. My heart swelled as I sang.

"_Your eyes,_

_As we said our goodbyes,  
Can't get them out of my mind._

_And I find_

_I can't hide_

_From your eyes."_

The octaves were a little awkward with my mezzo-soprano voice, despite the fact my range was three octaves. In this key, it was a song written for a tenor.

Mark's expression and breathing were both ragged. A tear fell from his cheek.

"Thank you. Please, leave me alone."

The oddly placed clock tower chimed 5 o'clock. An hour to go see, talk to, and run away from Kelley. She was about two miles away. Fifteen minutes. Ready, set, GO!

I sprinted down the streets, cutting off people, ignoring crosswalks, scaring taxi drivers.

I arrived in front of Kelley's row house in a few minutes.

I banged on the front door.

"Kelley?" I called.

She opened the door as Madame Z.

"Bella. Come in, come in."

I followed her inside and past the silk curtains that divided the front parlor and the rest of the house. We were in a somewhat modern kitchen that didn't look at all like it was in the home of a psychic in her early forties.

We sat at the kitchen table.

"Anything new?"

"I was in the graveyard and the blonde man from my dreams was there, and I sang him a song that I don't know and it made him cry and Benjamin is my neighbor/enemy's father and-"

"Bella, Bella, calm down, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. Something my own mother had never called me.

"One thing at a time. Start with the graves."

"The blonde man, from my dreams, only older. I saw him today. At the graves in the cemetery. I was taking care of April, Angel, Thomas, Mimi, Roger, Benjamin, Maureen, and Joanne. There's just something about them… Kelley?"

Her face was the color of paper whites.

"I knew you dreamt of them. I didn't know what you meant when you said you thought I saw you in the graveyard. I didn't realize you found them."

"Kelley, what are you talking about?"

"Maureen. Maureen Idina Johnson."

"What?"

"She was my sister."

A/N: Duh duh duh!!!! Reviews please!


	6. Discoveries

A/N: Sorry it took me so long! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I was having a bad day (we had a blizzard all day, my DVD of RENT got all scratched up and crapped out from Santa Fe to La Vie Boheme (we all know angry Rentheads are no laughing matter), got depressed about the cost of the colleges in New York I'd like to go to (namely Adelphi University ($25,240)and NYU ($37,372)) and I jabbed myself repeatedly with a needle making jewelry), and this really picked me up. I also want you to know that if you haven't listened to Blinding Light, Adam Pascal's album with Larry Edoff, you have to!!!! DOWNLOAD IT OFF ITUNES! It's amazing. At least get Single Drop of You and Pause the Clock. Sorry the last chapter was so short. It had info, though. Love ya!

"Kelley…. Oh my God. You knew them… all of them didn't you?"

"Not all," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I didn't know Angel or April. I met the rest of them not long after that. I went to visit Maureen in New York. She brought me to dinner that night with her lover, Joanne, and their friends Mimi and Roger, who had just been married, Mark, Maureen's ex, and Collins, Mo's best friend. Angel had died late the year before, and April had committed suicide two years ago."

"Oh… oh my God. Kelley, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. Most of them died before you were born."

"I know. Kelley?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Can you put me under again? I mean, in a trance."

"Why?"

"I want to remember."

Kelley sighed and stood up.

"Come on."

I followed Kelley into the front room and lay down on the silk sofa.

"Are you ready?"

"Beam me up, Scotty," I grinned.

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

Everything went black.

I dreamed of April again (I knew her name because she committed suicide, like Kelley had said). Then came the pale man hovering over me. I was in a hospital bed. I hated it. Kelley was there next to him. She was pregnant.

I held the man's hand.

He was crying. They both were.

"Don't worry. I won't be gone long."

My voice was barely above a whisper.

Then I died.

I opened my eyes.

Kelley stared at me. Tears streamed down her face.

"What is it?"

"You were Roger. The day he died."

"I…."

"Those were his last words. "Don't worry. I won't be gone long." Our daughter was born the next day. We loved her so much, but we couldn't keep her. We didn't have enough money to give her everything she needed."

"What happened to her?"

"She was adopted by a family with lots of money, not too far away from us. Last I heard, her adopted father put a pistol to his head when the economy went bad. His insurance was worth a lot, so I guess he wanted them to have it."

It sounded like my own father. Damn him for leaving us like that.

"What did she look like?"

Kelley let a tear fall down her face.

"She was the prettiest little thing. She had beautiful strawberry blonde hair, like her father. And her eyes, after she was born, they turned green so fast. They looked exactly like Roger's had. It killed Mark to look at her eyes."

"Mark?"

"My husband. My full name is Kelley Jeanne Cohen."

"Cohen… Mark Cohen. That was the name of the man I met in the cemetery."

"You must have met your father, then."

"What?"

A/N: Well, well, well, what have we here, huh(not meant to be taken from the Man)? A second generation boho? Hmmm. Reviews are loved. So are suggestions, because I'm not sure where to take it from here.


	7. Gushing

_**Ok, ok, false alarm. This is not an update. But I just need to gush. I saw Adam and Anthony last night, and I was practically jumping out of my seat. I mooed during "Over the Moon", clapped during "Seasons of Love", and cried at Angel's funeral and during Finale B and after it was over because it's over. Adam and Anthony are even better in person. I finally got my mom to admit that Adam is amazing. He gave me chills. I had the time of my life. The only thing I didn't get to do was stage door, but that was because my mom and dad thought it was too late in the evening. 11:00 is not that late! *sigh*. Well, I was Orchestra, Section C (Center!), Row N, Seat 4. Excellent seat, especially when you have field glasses. Completely, beyond words, amazing. Justin and Michael were excellent as Angel and Collins. Nicolette was hoot. Lexi was amazing, and Jacques was outstanding. Haneefah was perfect. Adam and Anthony were gods.**_

_**P.S: I am still writing, I'm just working on some other things. I'm not abandoning Reincanration at all.**_


	8. Unexpected

A/N: Sorry it was another short one. This next one will be longer, promise. If, you are under the impression that you have the best Beta on FanFiction, you are sadly mistaken. I have the best Beta, Marky's Scarfy. Unless she's yours, too, you are incorrect. I went and saw Adam and Anthony, (if you read the last chapter) and IT WAS AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!! Today (the 20th) is my birthday, so reviews make excellent presents.

"Your father."

"You're- you're my mother?"

"Yes."

"And that man, Mark, he's-"

"Your father.""I can't believe it."

I held my head in my hands.

"I mean, I don't even look like either of you."

"Good lord, Bella, look at you!"

I looked in the mirror on the wall.

"You have your father's hair-" I touched one of my strawberry-blonde curls- "and from the fact you're wearing contacts, his eyesight, too."

My face flushed. My eyesight was terrible."You blush easily like him, too."

Kelley stood and grabbed her photo album.

"You even have some Maureen in you. You have her jaw, but just a little softer, and her mouth. You sound like her, and you have her curls, too."

"Oh, god… this… this is…."

Kelley, or Mom, I guess I should call her, leaned forward and touched my hands.

"You should go home. Think things through."

"Yeah. Yeah, I need to go."

"I'll see you soon." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Of course. You're my mother."

She smiled. I ran home to our tall apartment building. I decided to take the

stairs. Smart move (thick sarcasm). 20 floors. After about 4 miles of running, as I ran through the door, I saw the raven haired woman bustling around the kitchen.

The woman I had loved as my mother for fourteen years, the businesswoman, the liar. I stomped past her to my room, scared, confused, pissed, hurt. I slammed my door shut and locked it. I threw myself on my bed. Mom knocked on the door.

"Bella? Bella, what's wrong?"

"YOU LIED TO ME!" I shrieked.

"Bella, what are you talking about?"

"You said to my face, after a direct question, that I wasn't adopted!"

"But you aren't-"

"LIAR! I met them, I know them! It's Kelley and Mark Cohen. They live near the cemetery in a row house. I look like Mark, and Kelley's sister Maureen, and for some weird reason Mark's best friend Roger!"

"Bella." Mom's voice was soft, broken. "Open the door."

"No."

"NOW." I opened the door a crack. "We need to talk, Bella." I opened it further.

"Sit."

I did.

I began."Why did you lie to me?"

She sighed. "I didn't know how you'd react."

"Better than this," I hissed.

"Bella, their past is… troubled. There's drugs and gays and AIDS and--"

"And I don't care. They're my family. How could you hide this from me my whole life?"

"Bella,--"

I stood.

"I'm going for a walk."

I stormed out of the house, taking the elevator down this time. I headed straight for the door in the lobby.

"Hey, Whidmore!"

NOT NOW, TIFFANY! I wanted to scream. "Hey, Tiffany," was all I could manage.

"Where're you goin'?"

"For a walk."

"I'm coming with you."

"Fine," I grumbled.

We walked in silence for a while as the sun began to set. I looked at the golden glow coming off of her light brown skin in the dusky light and even felt a little pang of envy. Thanks for the pale skin, Mark. I looked like a snowball. She looked like a bronze statue. We walked through a park and Tiffany sat down on a bench.

"Sit."

I did so. I really needed to stop listening so much to people when they told me to sit down.

"What's wrong?"

I gave her a look of questioning. She took my hands in hers. "You're not doing ok. Spill."

"Who are you and what have you done with Tiffany Coffin?"

She laughed. "I've changed. There's more to life than designer shoes and handbags."

"Nice to know you've figured that out."

She looked minorly insulted. "I've changed. I don't want to be my mom. I don't want to end up in a screwy no-love-money-only marriage."

"Ok."

"Now what is it?"

"Well…" How was I supposed to tell her my mother was a psychic and my father was a filmmaker, who just happened to be her dead father's enemy's sister and his ex-roommate? So I just explained it as best I could.

Tiffany looked at me blankly.

"Wow."

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No. Can…can…?"

"Can I what?"

"Can you take me to my dad?"

"You've never been to his grave?"

"No. Mom never let me. Whenever I talked about him she would get so mad. She hated him so much, toward the end of their marriage. I think they loved each other once, a long time ago. I like to think so at least. I don't want to be a money child. Can you? Can you take me to Dad?"

"Of course I can, Tiffany. You never knew him. You deserve at least to know where he's buried."

"Thank you, Bella." She hugged me. This was slightly weird. A girl I had poured my heart and soul into loathing was suddenly my dear friend. This day could not get any weirder or more confusing. I led Tiffany away from the bench. It was nearly dark as we passed Mark and Kelley's house. I pointed it out to her.

"I kind of like it."

"I do, too," I said.

We entered the graveyard. I led her past John, Rose, Nathaniel, Emeline, Vanessa, and Albert. Then we passed April, Angel, Collins, Mimi, and Roger.

She saw Benny's grave.

She collapsed on it in a heap of tears.

A/N: Reviews are the frosting to my cake!


	9. A True Family

A/N: I KNOW, IT'S BEEN FOREVER!!!!! I've been balancing minimum 9 hour a week marching band practices and two honors classes. If any of this seems weird/random/out of place, please blame my wonderful dentist. While writing this, I was numbed up on Novocain, doped up on Vicodin (Love/hate relationship there. Makes me depressed and tired, but also makes the pain stop.), and in serious pain. I wanted to have Bella pull out a gun and shoot somebody, but that's not exactly going to fit her character or the plotline, now is it? AND: I've found my own little family of friends, very similar to the family in RENT. They make me so happy. Anyway, important chappie! Lots of father/daughter stuff….

I watched Tiffany sob over Benny's grave. I was perched between Roger and Mimi, the cool granite of Mimi's headstone soothing against the back of my neck. All I really wanted to do was sleep. But sleep would bring dreams. There was no way I could escape. I closed my eyes and let the wind play in the dark with my ringlets.

I squeezed my eyes tighter together as a flashlight beam hit my face.

"What're you two doing here? It's late, you should be at home," a voice barked. I assumed it was that of the cemetery's caretaker.

"We're visiting family. Bug off."

"Get. Visiting hours are over. Go home. You have school tomorrow."

"I don't have a home," I said simply.

"Don't have a home?" The caretaker looked taken aback.

"Not one that I'll ever go back to."

"But you have one."

"If it can be called a home."

"Well, get there."

"No."

The caretaker looked ready to slug me.

"Bella?"

"Yeah, Tiff?"

"Why don't you stay with Mark and Kelley?" She said tentatively.

"I don't… I don't know if they'll want me."

"You're their birth daughter. Why wouldn't they? You told me that Kelley said they wanted to keep you, but couldn't because they didn't have enough money to give you the life they wanted."

"Yeah, but, still…"

"Go, Bella. I know where my dad is. Now go find yours."

xXx

I knocked on the wooden door, and let the screen fall shut over it. I prayed it would be Mom who answered. It was in vain.

"Bella?" Mark asked.

"Uh, Mark, hi. Um, can… do-"

"Bella?" Mom said, appearing behind Mark.

"How do you-" Mark began.

"I'll tell you in a little bit, love. Bella, come in, quickly, it's not safe for you to be out alone at this time of night."

"Thanks, Mom" I mouthed as I walked in.

She smiled. A silent "you're welcome."

"Mark?" she said as we passed through a curtained doorway into the family room. "Mark, sweetie, you better sit down, too. There's some news I want to share with both of you.  
"Bella, you already know part of this."

What was she saying…?

"Mark… This is our daughter. This is our little girl."

Mark's eyes were huge behind his glasses.

"How…. Musetta?"

"What?" I asked, taken aback. Musetta?

"Bella," Mom began, "when you were born, we named you Musetta. Musetta Angel Cohen. Roger would never stop playing Musetta's waltz. Even we knew it by heart."

She smiled sadly.

"And Angel?" I asked

Mark spoke up.

"Angel… Angel was a good friend of mine, years ago. She had AIDS. She died in 1990. She was only 24. Angel… Angel was the most amazing person I had ever met."

I sat there, blank. It was so much to absorb…

"Zetta?"

I looked up.

"Dad?"

And he took me in a tight, welcoming embrace.

My eyes burned with tears.


End file.
